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Tapicerías Apasionadas Loose Threads
Category:Stories Category:Cyntia Category:Oliverio Tapicerías Apasionadas: Loose Threads =Chapter One: A Birthday Wish= :--by Oliverio Quin smiled as he lay next to Cyntia, still asleep and nestled against him. His eyes twinkled, as he doubted she remembered that, in passing, she'd mentioned her birthday once. It was a day he'd etched into his memory, wanting more than anything for her to be happy. He had the decency to wait until she stirred, but as soon as he did, he slipped out of the sheets and padded to the small alcove they used to prepare food and begin to make quiet preparations ... Finally sure that everything was where he wanted it, he smiled - and then proceeded to run up to the bed, pouncing on the bed and Cyntia all at once, the frame protesting with dangerous creaks. "Hap-py Birth-day!", he shouted, emphasizing each syllable for emphasis. Cyntia blinked, startled but smiling and then looked around. Their bed was ringed with vases full of flowers: asters, roses, daffodils, tulips, cyclamen, baby's breath .... The effect was to be within a halo of flowers, the scents mixing and dizzying. Quin, bursting with happiness, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips before springing off the bed, careful to clear the flowers. He came back, a tray of scones and fragrant tea in hand, still smiling. Cyntia sat up, truly surprised that Quin even knew it was her birthday and completely unprepared for the arrangements he'd made. Setting the tray over her legs, plumping up her pillows and giving her another kiss, Quin winked and went over to their small window. Flinging open the windows, he bellowed in a loud, cheerful voice, "Wake up Stormwind! It's Cyntia's birthday - the birthday of the most beautiful, wonderful woman in all of this city!" Someone shouted up something rude from the street below to which Quin's only response was to pluck a daffodil from a vase and throw it in a high arc down to the naysayer. Quin looked back to Cyntia, picking up his guitar and sitting on the windowsill. Smiling at her, he began to play her all the love songs he knew, his voice carrying out the window but clearly intended for her. He waited patiently now for Cyntia to enjoy her breakfast and discover the small wrapped box on her tray - in which was a delicately crafted anklet of gold, a mark of true love back home, a promise made. But there was no rush to open the box. Quin was enjoying letting Cyntia take in the treats. They had a lifetime. =Chapter Two= :--by Cyntia It’s one thing to hear someone criticize you with judgment, and quite another to hear them lay things out on the table for discussion out of caring to resolve the issues with love in mind. Cyntia had only experience in the former with her various past relationships. There came a time where disagreeing was inevitably viewed as a divider and she always dreaded and half-anticipated that split. Perhaps it even colored how much she let others see the realness of herself, through defensive reactions. It seemed far easier to let them walk, than to work at looking at herself with honesty and forgiveness. What was most remarkable to her about Quin was his ability to accept and continue to love and cherish in spite of weakness and mistakes. He was perhaps the most forgiving person she had ever met. She had watched him in his everyday behavior towards the flower stand attendant. The lad looked to be a student, trying to scrimp to make ends meet. He was barely above the criteria of a functioning member of society, often showing up to work late. Anyone else would have stopped interacting with the boy. Quin accepted him wholeheartedly in spite of what appeared to be a peacebloom addiction, and continued to ask the boy about his life, his feelings, his thoughts on flowers as if they were equally important as anyone else’s. Quin’s philosophy was that expecting the boy to interact at his level gave him something to strive and reach for, and was, therefore, a connection to cultivate. He was not enabling the boy, he was holding the reward just within reach, while making him jump for it at the same time. Others did not always understand this about Quin, but that did not matter – Cyntia did. She had witnessed him deliver the rent to their Landlady, a dowdy old woman who had long ago forgotten to look in a mirror, always asking her how she was and taking the time to truly hear her. His attentiveness was infectious. The woman began wearing pressed dresses and curling her hair, going out of her once darkened cave to soak in some sunlight and improve her mood. More often than not, there were now flowers in the front windowsill and fresh wreaths on the door. The woman was beginning to feel worthwhile and valuable again, despite the loss of her husband. Quin had given her a gentle shove along that path and continued to check if the way was clear of barriers regularly. It was for these reasons and many more along the same lines that Cyntia sat among her fairyland ring of blossoms on the most memorable birthday of her life, bathed in the clearest rays of love life could offer, and simply beamed. Quin’s songs made her feel like a goddess; his playfulness made her feel youth eternal; the strength of his character made her feel quintessentially protected and cherished. Her entire soul was exploding like multiple fireworks shows lined up on the docks in Menethil Harbor. She felt her capacity to love grow larger than it was previously, as her heart swelled. Her eyes were moist and fingers shaky attaching the clasp of the anklet. Quin’s epidemic forces had infected her as well, and the only direction it could possibly go was outward. First and foremost, Cyntia needed to get creative to outdo Quin’s efforts. As her own eccentric form of thank you, he was about to be drenched in twice the delicious surprise he had given her. The challenge and anticipation of planning it excited her beyond reason, and the joy of channeling her efforts towards the best of what life had to offer was piercing. Already the wheels were turning for precisely how she would do this. =Chapter Three: Sweet Revenge= :--by Cyntia The first thing Cyntia did the next morning was climb gently out of bed, trying ever so hard not to make the bed squeal on her. She pulled her thick fuzzy robe around her and tiptoed gingerly on bare feet into the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door after peeking to see Quin still in a tangle of sheets, one leg bare and diagonal across the bed. Glimpsing even just a thigh exposed like this made her ache, longing to make him tingle – but not yet! It was far too soon. She had work to do and she shut the door soundlessly. First she found her undergarments flung to the floor in the heat of the night. She scooped them up and dangled them on top of his towel, knowing he’d not even see them until he reached from the steamy shower, grabbing a handful of silkiness instead. She smiled, imagining just how that would give him a jolt of passion to kick-start his morning. Cyntia lightly misted the inside of the shower curtain with her favorite perfume so the humidity would carry the scent of her through him while he was bare. Looking into a drawer she pulled out some lipstick and tucked it away for later use. She then tiptoed to the kitchen and pulled out some paper to write upon. Cyntia wrote 10 little notes of affirming adoration and then folded them neatly into semi-origami heart shapes. On the outside of each she wrote “Open me and read!” She then padded quietly about their tiny place, searching quickly for hiding places he would look. One went into the bin where the coffee filter would sit, another in his wallet. More were placed in his boot (he had such tender feet, too… he’d not be able to stand a thing in his boot), his guitar case, in the fruit basket, taped to the mirror next to the front door he always glanced in. The last three she saved. Finding her jogging suit on the pegs in the hallway, she swiftly exchanged them for the robe and tied her laces as if late for a race. Quietly she slipped from the heartbeat of her home, and ran outside with cheeks already pink in excitement. Her first stop was the flower attendant. It took nothing but a “pretty please”, a charming smile and a hug to get him to agree to give the note as part of Quin’s change. Then Cynthia proceeded to the music store where she knew he needed to pick up new strings he’d special ordered. The man behind the counter beamed and winked at her in collaboration with her sneakiness. Of course he’d tell Quin a beautiful lady had left him a message and take his time about searching for the note under the counter to heighten his anticipation. Her last stop was the tram station. There she took a chance on wedging the note between plats of his bench where he always laid his case and music before they began to play. She hoped by then he’d be looking everywhere for one of her notes to surprise him, and if it got intercepted by someone, well... happy little thrill for them! Heading back towards home, Cyntia approached the building just before their own. There was a section on the ground floor currently unleased with a window facing the morning sun. Cyntia grinned, looking around to see if she might be noticed, then assuring herself no one else was out at this hour watching steamy breath clouds, she found the lipstick in her pocket. Assessing the dew covered window, she began to wipe the center dry with her sleeve pulled down far over her hand. On the dry glass she wrote out in dark shimmering moonberry lipstick for the whole town to see: “Quin, you are the best lover in the entire universe and I am the envy of every woman alive! - Cyn" Once satisfied it was large enough to read and directly in the path towards home, Cynthia then ran to the nearest public phone. There she made three phone calls. One was for the new restaurant in town, The Kilt and Pancake, to prepare a picnic basket for lunch to be delivered to the canal boats just under the bridge spanning the Trade District and Old Town at precisely noon. The second was to the wine shop in town. The owner had once hired them for a party in the cellar, which turned out to be very elegant among the oak barrels with linen tables set. Wine vines hung in arcs along the ceiling edges, with white lights entwined and glimmering softy. She asked the owner to reserve the cellar for them that night, taking care that it would be the same atmosphere that had made them gasp in delight before. The last phone call was to an old Navy buddy from back home she knew she could trust with her life. The surprise Cyntia had arranged for last week was due to be delivered later that afternoon on schedule. Checking the time, Cyntia knew Quin would be stirring soon. She bolted back home and eased herself in, heading straight for the kitchen to prepare french toast and cinnamon apples as if nothing were amiss at all. Now, if she could just get through the day pretending it was any other ordinary day. =Chapter Four= :--by Oliverio Quin smiled to himself, eyes still closed and only awake enough to be aware that he was one very happy and entirely sated man. Cyntia was simply … amazing. He nestled deeper into the pillow, smiling and not alert enough to notice that Cyntia wasn’t curled up next to him … Later, much later, Quin’s eyes snapped open, with the twin realization that he’d both overslept and that Cyntia had snuck out of bed and made breakfast! It was a kindness but Quin hated not pulling his own weight. He threw the sheets down and padded to the bathroom, running his hand through his thoroughly messy hair. Glancing in the mirror, he smiled at the comical way half of his hair went one direction while the other half went off in no particular direction at all. He jumped in the shower and turned the small gnomish knob – it was small, but for the luxury of hot water indoors, Quin would put up with some of the particulars of Gnomish engineering. Like many men, Quin raced through the shower, his lack of thoroughness compensated for by the vigor with which he lathered up (or so he figured). He smiled, a memory of Cyntia last night flitting through his mind (unaware that it was prompted by the perfume she’d left), and went to grab his towel, wiping his eyes in a hurry. He paused though as he did this. Pushing his damp hair out of his eyes, he laughed out loud as the now completely soaked pair of panties dangled from his fingers. That brat! Grabbing his proper towel and drying off, Quin wrapped it around his waist and made for the kitchen, kissing Cyntia on the back of the neck. There was a lot to do today and now less time to do it, but a man needed breakfast - and breakfast was pretty much defined by coffee. As he reached for the pot, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Quin knelt down to pick it up and toss it, but Cyntia’s elegant script caught his eye. Opening the note, he smiled and shook his head at her words. She never held back expressing herself, and Quin loved it. He grinned at Cyntia, who smiled but kept working on finishing breakfast. After a wonderful breakfast, Quin got ready, putting together his essentials for the day – and found six more notes around the house! Each one was in turn loving, risqué or hinting at more. He shook his head at the one in the boot; she teased him about his feet all the time and must have enjoyed tucking that one away in the toe of the boot. Seven notes in all. Quin wondered if Cyntia was superstitious and that’s why she’d chosen that number. He teased her, kissed her, hugged her, but she kept her cards close to her vest. He didn’t wonder long about seven notes. He had grabbed his guitar and he and Cyntia were making their way to the tram, when he snapped his fingers. He would show her! He’d get her a bouquet of flowers! When he’d approached the local flower vendor, he should have picked up on the man’s smug grin, but no. Quin’s cheeks flamed red when the elderly man slipped him another note from Cyntia, along with his change, giving Cyntia a quick wink. Out-maneuvered today – there was no doubt about it. They stopped at the music store, his mind racing now of how he could outdo her in their little love duel. As the clerk searched for the guitar strings, a small smile spread across Quin’s face. Cyntia knew very well he had to get these strings. While the man made a show of looking for the strings, Quin took the last note out of his pocket and grinned at Cyntia. Then he put the note down on the counter and tapped it with his index finger, “I think you’re looking for something that looks a bit like this.” The two men had smiled at each other, enjoying Cyntia’s game. Quin paid for his strings, took his note and left the salesman a nice tip. When they’d gotten to the tram, he wasn’t sure what to expect. As they headed to the bench they normally used, an elderly Gnomish woman sat down on the bench. Quin figured they’d find another bench but noticed Cyntia’s eyes go a bit wide out of the corner of his own eyes. He looked to the bench and watched as the woman put her bag down on the bench on top the little bit of a note showing between the bench slats. Quin rushed over, eager, and lifted the woman’s bag. Aha! Another note! He was triumphant – until the woman’s handbag came thwacking down over his bent down head. She was yelling and screaming things like “Masher” and calling for the guard. Quin figured it was easier to beat feet than explain, and, anyway, it felt like she had a couple bricks in there! Quin grabbed Cyntia’s hand and his guitar and they bolted out of the tram, laughing together. When they were sure they were clear of the angry woman, Quin stopped and took Cyntia in his arms, kissing her on the lips and crushing her to him, “You know I love you?” She simply nodded back, a small grin on her face as she took his hand and led him home. Focused on her backside, he was surprised when they turned a corner and there, for all Stormwind to see in red lipstick, was Cyntia’s proclamation. “Quin, you are the best lover in the entire universe and I am the envy of every woman alive! - Cyn" Quin’s jaw hit the cobbles. He was utterly and completely speechless – made all the more obvious as Cyntia jumped up on him, wrapping herself around him. As she covered him with kisses, she whispered to him to carry her to their favorite bridge in the city. Quin, dutifully, complied – and was rewarded with a sumptuous lunch from the local tavern, shared with Cyn in one of the small, romantic canal boats. Quin had paid the local fisherman a bit of money to paddle up and down the canal as they ate. After lunch the two had spent the afternoon walking the city together, holding hands and enjoying each other’s company. This was now their home, and it felt right. Quin lost track of time, happy to simply be with Cyntia. He was surprised when she stopped at the door of the wine cellar, a nice place where they’d made a nice bit of money playing for a wedding party in the basement. Cyntia smiled at him and asked, almost hopefully, “Hungry?” Up to that point, he wouldn’t have realized it was dinner time, but her question set off a low growl in his stomach. He leaned in and kissed her and said in her ear, “Hideously hungry – where shall I take you to dinner, my love?” =Chapter Five: A Winter Veil's Feast to Remember= :--by Cyntia Cyntia did not answer him but instead raised her left hand to caress Quin’s face. Every ounce of love for him poured through her shimmering eyes as she leaned forward to gently nibble his lips. With her soft mouth teasing his, she murmured, “The best Winter Veil feast ever, my Quin. For you.” And with that she pushed the door open with her right hand, tilting her head for him to enter. She felt his hands linger on her hips, his thumbs pressing where she was tender - a promise for later. He pulled back and smiled then, raising an eyebrow and turned to walk inside with one hand reaching back to pull her with him. The basement was decorated to the hilt as it had been for the wedding party, with additional holly and mistletoe added in abundance. Candlelight danced to the soft music and the room felt alive in splendor and meaning. The aromas of a proper Winter Veil Feast filled the room. Quin looked around with delight and turned back to Cyntia to pull her to him in a wonder-filled squeeze. Cyntia let him and buried her face into his neck, loving the scent of him, then firmly took hold of his shoulders and turned him far to the left. She waited, holding her breath for him to notice. There, sitting in the corner, in the hush of all great surprises, sat his family. Maria had silent tears dripping down her joyous cheeks. Cyntia choked up as he gasped and ran to them, embracing and giddy. She’d had two of her old Navy buddies arrange this discrete reunion, knowing they could be trusted to keep her secrets. Of all the gifts she could think of to give him in a lifetime, this was by far the best.